


Next Year Will Be Better

by wakandan_wardog



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthday Fluff, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes bakes, Fluff, Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener Iron Man, Iron Spider Suit, M/M, Pre-Slash, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19023007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandan_wardog/pseuds/wakandan_wardog
Summary: Just a quick story for Tony's birthday. Pre-Slash Tony Stark/James Barnes, and Tony acting as IronDad to the Spider Son and his Potato Gun Son.Happy Birthday, Tones. We love you 3000.





	Next Year Will Be Better

At two thirty a.m. New York time, a certain billionaire clad in worn sweatpants and a black tee scrambles up onto one of the marble counters in his personal kitchen. Heels hanging down against the doors he gives an idle shuffle to settle himself, then peels the lid off the plastic tub in his left hand and wings it down onto the marble carelessly.

“Sir, I would like to point out to you that this falls under Miss Potts categorization of ‘worrying behavior’,” JARVIS interjects for what is probably the third time.

“JARVIS, in the words of the immortal Lesley Gore,” Tony warns with a careless swing of the teaspoon in his right hand. “It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to.”

“Yes, Sir,” The AI managed a long-suffering sigh, but otherwise subsided.

Assured his P.A. turned C.E.O. isn’t about to descend upon him like a vengeful specter of responsibility, Tony resettles onto the marble surface with a decisive nod. Kicking his feet idly, he scoops a spoonful of icing out of the container and pops it into his mouth for a leisurely suck. The icing is thick and sweet and cold, more like a mousse from time in the refrigerator. It splits away in layers with each swipe of his tongue, until the spoon is clean and tastes only of metal. Clicking his teeth Tony pulls it out of his mouth and scoops up another spoonful, sucking at it morosely as he stares out the windows at the half-lit sprawl of Manhattan beyond his windows.

“Sir,” JARVIS begins again. “If I might interrupt your celebration?”

“No, if you’re gonna be a buzzkill, you can’t,” Tony counters around the spoon, so it comes out more than a little garbled.

“Judging by your tone, I’m going to assume that was a particularly petulant conditional response, Sir,” JARVIS continues, utterly unfazed. “I wanted to let you know that Sergeant Barnes has requested permission to access your floor. “Considering his current cargo, I’ve taken the liberty of allowing him onto your floor.”

“WAH!?” Tony squawks with a flail, about to throw himself off the counter when he sees a shadow in the doorway.

His freeze and flinch is automatic, though the shadow resolves itself to Bucky a moment later. _Not Steve, not Steve._

The Sniper steps into the room slowly, smoothly, not looking at Tony head on, but fixing on the counter like he’s trying to be non-threatening. In Barnes's favor, he does look deceptively soft right now. The pants he's wearing are just a hair too long, so the hems slip under his heels and reduce the sound of his purposeful strides to a whisper. The shirt he's wearing is worn soft and looks a little flour-dusted. His hair is tied back in a loose tail but several strands have escaped to frame his face, he looks relaxed but aware. He's not having an episode, he's not on edge, he's just... James. 

“Hope you don’t mind, JARVIS said you were up,” Barnes mumbles, hauling an actual basket into the room and carefully pacing toward the island. “I uh, I brought you something for your birthday.”

“You what now?” Tony asks, bewildered, as he watches the basket settle on the island. “My birthday?”

“Yeah, it is your birthday, and JARVIS says you don’t much celebrate like you used to,” Barnes shrugs. “Which I hear is a good thing, Iron Man hosting an orgy would be uh... Something? Anyway, since you’re awake and might be hungry, I thought…”

If he were still the type to blush he might have about the orgy remark, but he got over that ages ago. Instead, Tony's focused entirely on the present. He can smell something warm, sugared and a little fruity, and is leaning toward the basket in spite of himself. “You thought?”

The Soldier looks up at him for several moments, then smiles faintly as he sees how far Tony’s leaning. The billionaire is both visually curious and invested, sniffing appreciatively.

“It’s just an apple crumble,” Barnes admits, at last, reaching into the honest-to-god gingham and lifting a pyrex baking dish out, half-wrapped in the checked fabric. “And some fancy vanilla ice cream, probably won’t be too awful.”

“Smells good,” Tony agrees, putting the lid on his icing and setting it aside. “All for me?”

“Well, I figured I’d have some with ya,” Barnes jokes softly, shuffling toward Tony. “That way you’re confident it ain’t poisoned.”

“If you’re poisoning me with freshly baked apple crumble, you’re working awfully hard,” Tony argues, reaching into a nearby cabinet for bowls and then a drawer for silverware. “You could just pour motor oil in coffee and offer me that. Or let DUM-E do it.”

“I hear that happens often enough, you might as well be immune,” Barnes gives him a worried look as he takes the offerings without question. “You probably should stop, you’re not machine enough for that to be good for ya.”

“Says you,” Tony gave him a petulant look. “Ask anyone else in this tower and they’ll probably tell ya I’m not human enough to die from that sort of stuff.”

“Ain’t askin’, then,” Barnes begins spooning out the apple crumble. "Cuz that'd prove they're idiots, and I don't much care for stupid." 

There’s a bit of a crunch as the spoon breaks the golden-brown crust, and strands of caramel spin idly between dish and bowl as he scoops the warm dessert into serving portions. A large scoop of ice cream gets plopped into the bowl and then he’s pacing over to offer it to Tony with his right hand.

“Happy Birthday, Genius,” He says softly, blue eyes cool as he watches Tony’s hands slowly reach toward the dish. “No candles, and I don’t much sing anymore.”

“That’s alright,” Tony says softly, accepting the bowl with a softly bewildered look on his face. “Don’t need ‘em… Thank you, Barnes.”

“Don’t mention it, Stark, it may be no good,” James shrugs, getting his own bowl and vaulting himself up onto the island across from where Stark sits.

“Still the best birthday I’ve had in a long time,” Tony admits, soft and shy, before biting into his dessert and making a wordless sound of approval.

“Next year’ll be better, Dollface,” James smiles as he watches Tony immediately dig in for a second bite. When the sounds get worse he shifts slightly on the marble, doing his best to ignore the sex-worthy purrs issuing from the other side of the kitchen. “Next year’ll be better.” 

*

Thirty minutes later, JARVIS interrupts their second helping with an apologetic clearing of his throat. "Sirs, if you'll forgive me? The Iron Spider and TinyStark Mark II have just arrived on the landing platform. Sirs Peter and Harley are currently arguing about who has rights to you on your birthday, and debating on a duel to determine whose claim is most valid. To the victor goes your attentions, and the loser is to be, I quote ' _yeeted_ ' from the landing pad. I would like to request your timely intervention." 

Having just taken a massive bite of both crumble and ice cream, James merely looks at Tony and arches an inquiring brow at him. 

"Ah," Tony winces, swallowing his ice cream swiftly and hissing at the brain freeze sensation that rips through his skull. "Tell them no yeeting or attempted fratricide, ditch the suits and they can come in. I have fancy ice cream and freshly baked crumble, it's probably a hundred-year-old recipe." 

James rolls his eyes at the crack, shaking his head as Tony continues on, immune to it all.

"The boys aren't allowed to kill each other, but they can come in for dessert at an ungodly hour of the morning." The billionaire grins. "I'll even introduce them to a living fossil."

"Keep up the cracks, Rich Boy," James murmurs dryly. "I betcha I can repossess and eat that dessert before you can get suited up to pry the pyrex from my hands."

"You're a cruel man," Tony sighs, looking pleased rather than disappointed. "Good, maybe they won't totally eat you alive."

Down the hall the elevator dings loudly, JARVIS signaling the arrival of what James assumed was Peter and Harley. Tony beams, setting aside his bowl and leaping down off the counter to pad through the kitchen toward the doorway. 

"Who?" James asks as he watches the billionaire walk past him, craning his head to look over his shoulder toward the door. 

"My sons," Tony responds idly as the sound of bickering and scrambling gets closer. "Boys! You have thirty seconds before I take back the offer of sugar at an idiotic hour on a school night."

James hears a thud, a scrabble, and two voices shrieking in unison.  **"NO!"**

Well, this is bound to be interesting... 

**Author's Note:**

> Coming soon, Tales of the Adventures of Iron Spider and TinyStark Mark II. I said what I said.  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> ❤️ ~Wardog


End file.
